


Hold Me Down

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [23]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (Rey Wants It But Doesn’t Want To Want It), (slight) - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Porn, Boss/Employee Relationship, CEO Kylo Ren, Desk Sex, Dominant Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Halsey Songfic, Mildly Dubious Consent, Office Sex, Porn With Plot, Relationship of Convenience, Rough Oral Sex, Songfic, Sugar Daddy, Without The Daddy Kink, asshole kylo ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Bad men always want good things— even if only to break them.”“And will you?”Dark eyes meet hers. “Hm?”“Break me.”His fingers finds a loose curl at her nape, twirling it softly. When he speaks— she feels like she might already be a little broken by it.“Only if you want me to.”In which Rey sells her soul to a three piece.





	Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohwise1ne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwise1ne/gifts).



> Hi, guys! I was listening to Halsey’s [_Hold Me Down_](https://youtu.be/xKnG2d9tZdU) and thought man, this sounds like an angsty Reylo PWP if I’ve ever heard one. I decided to see if I could write a Sugar Daddy AU without the Daddy kink. 😂 It’s a little disconnected but I hope you like it! ❤️

* * *

 

The slow cascade of paper from the printing tray grounds her. Nothing but _slide_ after _slide_ of standard letter as it builds a thin stack of copies. She feels spread as thin as they are these days. As if she’s been cut into these slices— these half-versions of herself.

She isn’t sure who she is anymore.

When it’s done, she gathers up her stack to pull it to her chest. Her fingers move to brush at her collar, tracing the skin just beneath. Her breath catches— eyes fluttering closed as she presses her thighs together.

_Stop it._

She collects herself— remembering where she is. It’s impossible to forget, after all. Her heels click along the tile as she leaves the copy room— moving down the long hallway towards the cluster of main offices.

A month ago— she could have never imagined working here. But then again… there are a lot of things she couldn’t have imagined.

She finds Mr. Hux where she’d left him— stooped over his desk and frowning down at some contract. He glances up at her as she enters his office, her knuckles wrapping lightly across the door.

“Come in.”

She steps inside. “I have the copies of the addendum you asked for.”

Hux nods, waving her over and taking the offered stack as he looks them over. “Thank you. I need you to take this contract to Ren for him to look over before I send it down to legal. We have a meeting with our manufacturing department this afternoon, and I need his approval before then.”

Rey has stopped listening soon after _take this to Ren—_ heart hammering and chest tight because she’s _not_ prepared to see him.

Then again— is she ever?

“Are you listening?”

She snaps her gaze up from the corner of his desk where she’s fixed her attention. “Yes. Sorry— I’ll do that right away.”

Hux nods. “Be quick about it. You know he doesn’t like to wait.”

Rey swallows. She’s very aware of that.

She takes the heavy binder he’s offering, holding it lightly in her hands as if it is might burn her— and there’s no proof yet that it won’t. For it is definitely to hell that it takes her. Straight into the fire.

It’s been days since she’s seen him. Memories of their last encounter are burned into her brain so that they are just _there_ when she closes her eyes. He’s pushed her in all _sorts_ of ways since this began— but to be so _careless_ —

But that’s not the real issue, if she’s being honest.

It’s the after that haunts her. It’s the _looks_ and the _touches_ that burn her— seeping inside of her to carve out places that don’t belong. To give her _ideas_ and _wants_ she has no business having.

Because that’s not what this is.

She is still standing outside his door— having long reached it and yet too afraid to enter. Will he be angry? Relieved? The not knowing has her stomach in knots.

But she is stronger than she knows— and she pushes open the door before she can change her mind.

He doesn’t look at her at first.

He’s turned away in his chair— hand gripping the receiver to his phone as he murmurs instructions. She waits quietly by the door— heart pounding a heavy beat beneath her ribs as she waits for his attention.

It’s something she finds herself doing a lot these days— even if she doesn’t want to.

When he cradles the phone once more— eyes fixing on her and so _unreadable_ this man— she finds she has stopped breathing.

It seems like hours— before he finally speaks.

“You haven’t answered my calls.”

She nods. “I know.”

“That isn’t what we agreed on.”

“I know that too.”

She watches his jaw work, studying her. “You’re angry. About this weekend.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“No.”

She snorts. “There were people _just outside—”_

“The door was locked. No one was going to find us.”

“If anyone had seen— what they would _think of me—”_

“I would never allow anyone to see you like that.”

“It was a _company function,_ Kylo,” she seethes.

“Yes,” he answers calmly. “ _My_ company— or have you forgotten?”

She purses her lips. _Has she forgotten._ How could she? She shakes her head. “No.”

She watches his chest rise and fall almost like a sigh, a frown at his mouth and a furrow in his brow. “This is what you chose”

She grits her teeth. “ _None_ of this is what I would have chosen if I had an _actual_ choice.”

“Isn’t it?” He moves to stand— so much _larger_ than he should be as he slowly rounds his desk, too-thick fingers trailing over the edge. “Does pretending not to want it make it easier to swallow?” His eyes rake down the length of her, making a slow pass down to her toes and back again to linger at her throat. “Does telling yourself you have no other choice make you feel like less like of a whore?”

She closes her eyes and sucks in a breath— the word stinging as if he’s slapped her. That’s the crux of the matter isn’t it?

_A whore._

She can feel how close he is now, feeling his hands brush along her shoulders and his fingers trail over her throat. He hooks into her collar, pulling it away to peer at the mark there. The one _he’d_ left on her with _his_ mouth.

The one she’s been desperately trying to hide.

 _His teeth at her skin as he licks and sucks and_ consumes. _Her dress — the one_ he’d _paid for— hiked over her hips and he’s filling her again and again and_ again _and there are people_ just outside _and if they find them—_

The exhale escapes her in a rush when he leans to let his lips hover there— so light they barely touch but heavy enough to pull her from her memories of only days before.

“You’re not,” he murmurs. “You think you’re some dirty thing. Something shameful.”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Never you,” he breathes. “You are good— _holy,_ even… it’s why I wanted you.”

“Why?”

He chuckles, the sound reverberating across her skin and making her shiver. “Bad men always want good things— even if only to break them.”

She hates the way her body is flushed right now, so attuned to his presence and his touch as she has a multitude of both in the past few weeks.

“And you’re a bad man.”

She can almost feel his smile against her skin as he answers, “If I weren’t— you wouldn’t be here.”

“And will you?”

Dark eyes meet hers as he straightens to look at her. “Hm?”

“Break me.”

It isn’t fair— that his mouth distracts her. With every facet of expression she is drawn to it— forever lessening her resolve to separate her heart from this _arrangement._

His fingers finds a loose curl at her nape, twirling it softly. When he speaks— she feels like she might already be a little broken by it.

“Only if you want me to.”

She sold her soul to a three-piece— but she fears it might be the actual devil trying to hold her down.

* * *

She said she wouldn’t come back.

She tells herself she doesn’t have a choice.

It is part of his stipulations— that her weekends be spent with him. In his space— in his _home._ She is nothing more than a prisoner of her own making.

He’s got her down on both knees— and if she’s being honest, she hadn’t even protested really.

She can barely breathe with the way his cock fills her mouth— with the way he drives over her tongue and into her _throat._ Saliva pools at the corners of her mouth, and Kylo’s fingers grip at her hair, and the way he fucks her mouth— like she is nothing more than a receptacle for his pleasure. Nothing more than a hole to fill.

She hates the way she is so wet for it.

Hates the way it only _worsens_ with every low moan and filthy word from his mouth.

“Open your mouth,” he grates, hands finding her jaw to squeeze. “You can take more.”

He knows she needs it— the instruction, the _command—_ if only to feed this idea that she hasn’t lost herself. That this is _necessary._ Her blind need for him and the lingering scraps of her dignity warr inside her— vigorous and _angry—_ and she is helpless to do anything other than watch. Watch them pounce— watch them _ignite—_ licking up the flames they bring about like the demons they are.

God help her— she opens for him. As wide as he needs her too. Until she can only breathe through her nostrils because everywhere else is full of _him._ He pulls her down onto his cock again and again and _again—_

“ _Yes_.” His voice is tight— the words like a chore and she can _feel_ the way his thighs tense and the way his hips stutter. “Just like that. _Just like that._ So sweet— so fucking _sweet_ stuffed full of me— I’m going to— _fuck,_ I’m going to—”

He pushes deep— her nose brushing against the coarse hair above his cock as he holds there. She can feel the warm gush of his cum as it pulses into her throat— and she swallows around him as she struggles not to gag. Not to _choke—_ because he’s so much. _Too_ much. He remains there for several seconds— too many for comfort— her eyes stinging and her cunt _dripping_ even when she wishes it wasn’t.

Because she doesn’t want this.

Doesn’t want to want him.

But then when his cock falls from her mouth he pulls her from the floor; he crushes her to his chest. He strokes her hair and kisses her temple and he tells her how _good_ she is for him and Rey— Rey hates this too. Hates it because she _doesn’t_ hate it. Hates it because she can’t help but enjoy the heat of his body against hers.

When he takes her to his bed— she doesn’t even hesitate to let him take everything else.

She doesn’t know anymore who is holding down who.

* * *

It didn’t use to be this tense— talking with Luke.

It used to be just _coffee_.

But there is a look in his eyes now. Almost like he _knows._

“You could come back,” he’s saying, “to Resistance.”

“Luke.” She sets her cup down, sighing. “You have to respect my choices.”

“But are they really _yours?”_

She looks away, afraid her expression will betray her. “Of course they are.”

He snorts. “I just don’t understand it, Rey. You were the brightest intern we’ve ever had. I thought you _wanted_ to stay with us after you graduated. You wanted to create things that saved _lives—_ now you work for— for— _him_.”

“I had to do what’s best for me,” she replies mechanically. “I made a choice.”

It’s practiced— rehearsed even— because she knew that Luke wouldn’t just let this go. He’d known more than anyone that there was nothing she wanted more than to work at his company. Resistance Medical creates some of the top equipment in the medical field and with her degree in mechanical engineering she could have seen that dream realized.

She’d been so _close._

“Did he make you a better offer?” Luke’s expression is hard. She knows how difficult she’s made this for him. “Or is it just—”

His words trail off— and she turns back to look at him again. She can feel the diatribe at the tip of his tongue. Almost taste it as if it rested against her own.

“ _Say it.”_

He lets out a slow breath through his nostrils. “Tell me it isn’t just… _him.”_ She wonders how many others think this. She notices the clenching of Luke’s fist, and she wonders if he is disappointed in her. “Tell me you didn’t open yourself to the dark side for a pair of pretty eyes.”

“Just ask me if you think I’m fucking him.”

She watches his eyes widen— and it is his turn to look away. “Of course not— I know that’s not who you are.”

She could almost laugh. _Oh, but it is._

“I’m sorry,” she offers, meaning it. “I really am.”

“Don’t be.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “This is your life, Rey. You have to live it. I just— of all the times you met him— you seemed to really _hate_ him. I’m just still in shock, I think. I didn’t see this coming.”

Rey reaches for her cup, huffing out a laugh that lacks any bit of humor. “Trust me,” she murmurs around the rim. “Neither did I.”

* * *

“I hate this.” She smooths a hand over her hip— the tight silk wrapped around her like a second skin. “I wouldn’t have chosen this dress.”

Kylo chuckles under his breath, pulling the arm thread through his a little tighter. “That’s the point. Isn’t it. Since I’m the one who chose it.”

“How much did it cost?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmurs. “You look stunning.”

She hates the blush she feels creeping up neck— surely as red as the dress that barely covers her breasts. She doesn’t answer— instead letting her eyes sweep over the room to the throngs of other guests at this event.

It’s not the first time he’s bought her a dress since they started this— but it is the first she’s ever worn that has been so fine. She hardly even feels like herself. Mostly she is just focusing on not allowing him to engage in the _last_ event they’d attended together— which had ended with the pair of them in an empty office and had nearly resulted in someone catching her fucking him in a desk chair.

She has to be more careful.

First Order’s annual charity ball is one of the most talked about events of the year— and Rey never imagined that she would ever attend. Especially not with _Kylo Ren—_ the company’s CEO. Then again, there are a good number of things she didn’t think she would be engaging in with _Kylo Ren._

“People are staring at me,” she hisses as he leads her further into the room.

“Because they want to fuck you.”

She blanches, a shiver creeping up her spine that she quickly stamps down. “Surely not.”

“Anyone in this room would want to,” he assures her, leaning in to let his mouth hover near her ear. “But that pleasure is reserved for me. Isn’t it.”

“Did you only bring me here to remind me that I don’t have a choice?”

“Ah, Rey,” he sighs. “We both know you have a choice.” She bites her tongue. She knows he’s right.  “Besides,” he continues, “I brought you here because I wanted to see you in this dress.”

Her breath catches— that trickle of confusion sweeping into her bones. The _more_ that he teases her with that threatens to ruin her. Why does he pretend that this is more than it is? She is a purchase. A calculated transaction. Nothing more. There can never _be_ anything more than this.

He pulls her to the center of the floor, just as the music slows and the crowd thickens. He pulls her against him— one large hand curving her spine as another pulls her smaller one into its grasp.

“What are you doing?”

He pulls her flush against him, beginning to move to the music. “Dancing.”

“People are going to assume—”

“Let them.” He presses his cheek to her hair, and she hears the soft inhale as he breathes her in. “Why do you worry so much?”

“Because people know _you—_ know your reputation. If they see us— see _me—”_

 _“_ I’m curious,” he cuts her off— _again,_ “what _is_ my reputation?”

“As if you don’t know,” she snorts. “ _Kylo Ren_ — takes whatever he wants— different woman every week—”

“That’s not fair. I’ve had the same woman for several weeks now,” he reminds her.

“So you say.”

He pushes at her waist to force her gaze to his. “There has been no one else. Not since you.”

The honesty she finds in his eyes actually surprises her, being that most of their interactions of _that_ nature are limited to weekends per their _agreement._ She had assumed that he— well, that he would find other ways to occupy himself during the week.

“Why?”

His eyes pass over her face, lingering at her mouth. “I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

She feels her chest grow tight, so unsure of his meaning or even his _intention_ because that’s the thing with Kylo. Isn’t it. You never quite know what he’s thinking.

“So I’m a good lay,” she remarks bitterly. “Something I don’t want the rest of your friends knowing.”

“Is it so unbearable— to have anyone assume you might enjoy being with me?”

“I don’t—” She swallows around the lump in her throat, feeling a heat building in her chest that makes breathing difficult. “I don’t. Enjoy it.”

“You’re getting good at that,” he laughs softly.

She narrows her eyes. “What?”

“Lying,” he clarifies. “I almost believed you that time.”

She doesn’t trust herself to answer— so she presses closer and turns her head to let his cheek settle against her hair again.

“You think if you admit it,” he murmurs into her ear, “that you will somehow be giving up something. You think to submit means to fail somehow— so you cling to your stubbornness.” His lips brush along her hair— so close to the shell of her ear underneath that she can’t help the shiver that courses through her. “It doesn’t have to be like that. It could be so easy if you just—” She hears him sigh. “You’re still holding on. Let _go.”_

She doesn’t know why he wants her to accept this wholly— maybe it is some sort of sick game to him. Maybe she is just a prize to be won. She almost laughs.

Doesn’t he see he’s already won her?

In the only way he cares to.

But his hand at her waist _does_ feel good— and his lips at her hair almost make her believe that this is something else. That she is just a woman and he is just a man and that this is something _more._

Dangerous.

Kylo Ren is a man who would throw her in the deep end just to watch her drown if the need strikes him. She can’t forget that.

He can have her body— because that is what she agreed to.

But she has to keep her heart to herself.

* * *

It’s only three days a week, that she has to make it through working within his walls.

Three days a week in his building— weekends in his bed— and practically everything he asks in between. That is the price she paid for his help. She’d needed the money and he’d had it— but it had come with a price.

Everything always does.

It’s so cold here— nothing like the bright halls of Resistance. None of the laughter and pleasantries that she’d become accustomed to in the eight months she’d interned under Luke.

She misses it.

Although she cannot help but notice how efficient it all is.

She’d heard the stories of how Kylo Ren had bought his own _father’s_ company at auction— tearing it down to the studs only to rebuild from the ground up. Six years later— it is the largest airline manufacturing company in the country. But at a price. Always at a price.

She heard his father died not long after the contract had been finalized. Some say it had been the betrayal of his son that had done him in— but Rey highly doubts that.

His text had been clipped— just a short _my office—_ and she wonders what he could want with her now. Strangely, there is little interaction between them during office hours. Almost as if he keeps his distance— almost as if he is respecting her wishes to separate herself from him publicly. Although that seems a stretch. She can’t see him doing anything for her benefit alone.

She finds him pacing his office— growling into his phone as he burns a path of his steps into the hardwood.

“I don’t fucking _care,”_ he seethes. “I was guaranteed we could proceed by the end of the month.” He snorts at whatever the person on the other line says. “You think I give a fuck about delays? I expect you to handle this, Armitage. I expect you to handle it _yesterday._ Do _not_ disappoint me again.”

He tosses his phone to the desk with a snarl then, noticing her finally standing wide-eyed in the doorway. “Rey.”

He crosses to meet her, pulling her against him and crushing his mouth to hers— taking her by surprise. She feels him reach to lock the door, his hands then finding her hair and plucking the clip there to let it tumble around her shoulders.

She tries to speak around the assault of his lips. “What are you—”

“Be quiet.” He spins her to urge her to his desk, lifting her as if she’s nothing and placing her on top. His voice softens a fraction. “Don’t pretend. Not this time.”

She can sense his anger rolling off him in waves— and while she doesn’t know the cause, she senses that it is vast. That he seeks some sort of relief from her. It is strange— this urge inside her to give it to him. To _soothe_ him.

It’s terrifying.

He’s already at his knees— pushing up her skirt and spreading her thighs and his _teeth_ as they nip into the soft flesh there— it pulls a gasp that she can’t contain.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps into her skin. “Tell me you want _me.”_

She can’t do that. She can’t _admit_ it. Not without knowing what he would _do_ with that information. His tongue passes over the skin of her thigh— hands reaching to tug at her underwear and there is a sharp _rip_ without warning and then there is cool air at heated flesh and she should be angry. She should _resist._

This isn’t what they agreed on.

This isn’t the weekend— it is a Tuesday.

But she doesn’t stop him— not even when he spreads her legs so wide they burn at the junction or his tongue licks through her folds and it is _so much._

She can’t help the way her fingers tangle into his hair— or the way her breath catches. It’s his lips and his tongue and _him_ and she doesn’t want it. She _doesn’t._

His hands are so _big_ as they cover her thighs— as they reach to let a finger slide inside her— and then _another._ His lips at her clit are _relentless—_ pulling at the taut bud to force her body to shake and her legs to tremble.

She’s right there— so near the precipice she can feel it in her _teeth—_ so sharp that she can feel it in every nerve ending.

But then it’s gone.

Her chest heaves with frustration at having been denied— and to see him kneeling between her legs— mouth shiny with _her_ and eyes dark with _need—_ it reduces her to someone who might beg.

“Tell me,” he urges. “Please.”

“Why does it matter?”

A growl escapes him— on his feet in seconds and wrenching her from the desk to turn her— to bend her over the top of it. “It matters to me.”

His fingers find the still-slick entry to her body— pushing inside of her to stroke and tease and the _sounds_ that escape her are damning enough on their own. But he wants more.

“ _Rey.”_ She can hear the shuffle of his belt and his slacks and she hisses at the warm press of hard cock against her backside. “ _Please.”_

Her hands clench against the cold wood— eyes shutting tight. “I’m not going to be another win for you.”

His answering laugh is dark and humorless. “I never win, Rey. Never.”

She gasps as he slips into her— his cock stretching and _filling_ and the burn is _so good_ and she’s _so wet_ and really— isn’t that his answer? How does he not already know that she isn’t sure how she’ll ever stop this. How she’ll recover when this inevitably ends?

How he’s taken a part of her and hidden it away where she will never find it.

His hands grip her hips and it is _punishing—_ the way he fucks her. Her body jolts against the sleek wood of his desk, and the slap of his skin against hers is _so loud._ It leaves her helpless— clinging to a little bit of spine in her meager attempt to keep her head above water.

To not drown in everything that is Kylo Ren.

“Does it make me selfish?” He leans to cover his with his body— his lips finding her ear as the slide of his cock leaves her breathless. “Taking what I want. Calling it mine.” He hits her particularly deep— and she cries out just as his hand reaches to brush over her mouth. “ _Shh.”_

She shouldn’t like it— his hand covering her mouth to quiet her. His cock driving into her faster to rush her ascent. Because they’re running out of time.

And not just in this moment.

She knows he’s walking her along a fragile line.

“Rey.” He groans into her spine as he pulls her tighter. “ _Rey.”_

She definitely isn’t fighting the way she gives in— the way her body trembles and shakes and her cunt _fists at him_ because it’s _so good_ and she _shouldn’t_ want this.

But she loves the slick warmth of him as he fills her— how he fills her so deep she fears he’ll always be there. How his body presses into hers as the force of his release saps his strength. How she feels the barely there brush of his lips at her shoulder.

But she can never tell him that.

She can’t let him win.

She has to keep her heart.

* * *

She isn’t sure how she’s going to make it through another weekend with him. Something changed two days ago— at least for her.

It’s been six weeks since this started— and there are still three to go. Three more weeks of pretending that she doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want him. She doesn’t know how she’ll survive it.

She wonders if perhaps something is different for him as well. The way he’d begged her to admit that she wanted this. Wanted _him._ He’d seemed almost desperate. She can’t stop thinking why that might be.

She’s so _distracted_ today— praying he doesn’t call her into his office again. She doesn’t trust herself. She needs more time to get her emotions in check.

She doesn’t notice Mr. Hux’s entry into the copy room at first— too focused on the steady sounds of the papers cascading into the tray.

“Ms. Johnson.”

She startles a little, finding him standing behind her as he watches her quietly. “Oh, Mr. Hux. I didn’t see you come in.”

“That’s okay,” he murmurs quietly. “I see enough for the both of us.”

She doesn’t like the way he steps closer. “What?”

“I know you’ve been fucking Ren.”

Her breath catches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie.”

She takes a step back, her legs hitting the copier with nowhere to go but he’s still advancing. “Excuse me?”

His hand reaches to trace her collar, leering at her. “Don’t worry,” he croons. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She feels panic bubbling in her chest, her mind racing because _how could he possibly know?_ Surely Kylo hadn't— surely he wouldn’t—

She moves to brush past him. “I have work to do.”

Hux grabs for her arm, not allowing her to leave. “I didn’t say my silence was free.” She wrinkles her nose, tugging from his grip but his fingers only tighten there. “Think it over. I can be a lot kinder than Ren.”

He lets her go then, and she rushes from the room with her stomach turning. She’s been so _careful—_ so sure that no one had ever seen more than she’d wanted them to see. She’s certain Hux couldn’t have just _picked up on this—_ which leaves her with the alternative. The realization that makes it difficult to contain the contents of her stomach.

_Kylo must have told him._

Had he bragged about it during some late-night office hours? Perhaps out with his friends for drinks?

Did _everyone_ know?

She’s going to be sick— but not before the tears come.

It’s her own fault. For allowing herself to believe— even for only a _second—_ that this was something that it wasn’t. That there might be something there.

She can’t deny that even if only in the most secret places of her heart— she wants more. She thinks she even deserves it.

But Kylo isn’t capable of that. Taking what he wants— using it for his purposes only to toss it aside when it’s no longer useful. It’s what he lives for. She’s always known that.

Just never as much as she does right now.

There will be consequences— for backing out. Their agreement hasn’t concluded— and she isn’t even sure how she’ll deal with that fallout. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing is worth the way she feels right now.

Not even Kylo Ren.

* * *

The weekend passes with a flurry of missed calls and insistent texts.

She ignores every single one.

He’ll get the message— and then he’ll move on. There’s a number of conquests out there for him. She just isn’t going to be one of them. Not anymore.

But that isn’t the problem right now. The problem lies in the bursar’s office of her university. With the words she’s just been told. 

“What do you mean it’s paid?”

The woman gives her a curious look— as if what she’s just said is perfectly conclusive. As if it doesn’t turn Rey’s world on its head. “There is no remaining balance on your fees, Ms. Johnson. I show the balance has been paid in full.”

“That’s not possible,” she reels. “There was a payment plan set up in weekly installments. There are three weeks left.”

The office worker raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure where you got your information— but I show here the balance was paid off nearly six weeks ago in a lump sum.”

_Six weeks ago._

Just after they’d… started this. He’d paid off the fees for her last semester _six weeks ago._ So all this time that she’d— that _they’d—_

_Why?_

“Are you alright, Ms. Johnson?”

Rey’s gaze snaps up— feeling her mouth hanging open. She scrambled to compose herself. “I’m… yes. I’m okay. I’m sorry. I was just… misinformed.”

The office worker gives her a kind smile. “Some surprises are good.”

Rey almost laughs— but manages a nod instead. “I guess so.”

She tries to pretend this information doesn’t knock her out. For weeks she’d believed Kylo had been holding her down.

Now she doesn’t know what they’ve ever been.

* * *

She never thought she’d find herself at his place on a Monday evening. It was never part of their agreement, after all. Then again— it seems there were a number of inconsistencies with their agreement.

Her heart shouldn’t contract when he opens the door.

Her stomach shouldn’t flip when he gives her that _look—_ like he hadn’t expected to see her again. Like he’s so _relieved_ that he is.

“Rey.”

She pushes past him— clinging to her anger above all else because that’s all she has right now. Underneath that is a curious notion of  _something_ that can’t be possible and she isn’t strong enough to prod at it right now.

“Why did you tell Hux about us?”

Kylo has the good sense to look confused. “Excuse me?”

She scowls. “Don’t play this game. I know you did. There’s no other explanation for him approaching me in the copy room Thursday and practically extending an invitation for him to have a _turn.”_

Kylo’s expression darkens— eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring and were it anyone else she might miss it but this is _him._ She knows him now. She has no other choice.

His voice is so low it almost frightens her. “Did he touch you?”

“What?” He has taken a step closer to her, and she instinctively backs away. “No, he— well. He grabbed my arm, but it wasn’t serious. He just— the way he _looked_ at me. I just—”

Kylo is _there—_ crushing her to his chest as his arms cage her in. “Then he is only fired— if he’d actually _touched_ you— he’d be dead.”

“What?” She barely manages the squeak of the word with the force of his embrace.

“I didn’t tell him a goddamned thing. I don’t know how he found out— but it doesn’t matter. He will never look at you again.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because he should know better than to touch what’s mine.”

_Mine._

Why are his arms so warm around her? Why does he sound so relieved that she’s here? What _is_ she to him?

“Kylo,” she whispers. “Why did you pay the balance.”

He stills. “It was our agreement.”

She pushes back to look up at him. “In _installments—_ in exchange for my… time. Why would you pay it off at the very beginning? What if I’d changed my mind? What if I’d left sooner? It wouldn’t have been worth it for you.”

He sighs. “It was never about the money.”

“What was it about?”

“You,” he breathes. “Just you.”

She pushes away from him— her arms wrapping around herself to keep her grounded. “I don’t understand.”

“I would have helped you for nothing, Rey,” he murmurs. “I would have done anything for you.”

“But you didn’t hesitate to allow me to agree to _this._ To take me every way you could for _weeks.”_

“I told you I’m a bad man.” He looks away from her— jaw working and eyes regretful. “I knew there was no other way you could ever want me. You’re so— _good._ Something I shouldn’t have ever touched. Something only meant for me to break. But I am selfish. I am not good. I _wanted_ you. I never thought you would agree so quickly. I told myself that maybe it was because deep down… you wanted me too.”

The room seems too small and her chest is so _tight_ because is he saying that he— has _all of this_ been—

“What do you want from me, Kylo?”

The smile at his lips is sad— mournful somehow. He closes his eyes. “Everything.”

She wonders if the world has stopped spinning— or if it is only her. She feels her mouth part as she looks at him— _really_ looks at him.

She’s never kissed him.

The thought takes her by surprise. His lips have covered her more times than she can count in these weeks. Touched every part of her body. Held her prisoner.

But _she_ has never kissed _him._

He looks lost when she approaches. Does he think she’ll hit him? She wonders if she will. She isn’t quite sure what her plan is as her feet shuffle forward.

She’s never kissed him.

It turns out that is her plan.

He is surprised at first— when she presses up on her toes. She has to after all— he’s so much larger than her. He fills a room and her head and other places inside her that she tries to ignore.

But his eyes close, and his mouth parts, and she’s kissed him now. Now she can’t seem to be able to stop. Every time he’s ever kissed her she’s felt as if he had been taking something from her but this— this is _giving._

For every time they’ve been together— it has been frantic and desperate— treated as if it would be the last time. She thinks now that is because he worried every time might be. She wonders what else she’s missed while she’s been so busy guarding, _protecting—_ keeping her heart.

Their clothes are on the floor now as they’ve been so many times— but his touch is light, like his hands are meeting her for the first time. They trace her shape and her swells and all the spaces in between— leaving a path that burns with his touch.

When he pushes inside— there’s no fight to it. Nothing in her mind that tells her to resist this. There is only his breath on her skin and his hands on her waist and _him_ as he moves inside her. As he pulls her close.

She still shouldn’t want this— but she thinks maybe it’s okay that she does. She thinks maybe she could even tell him so.

So she does.

She whispers it in his hair and the way he shudders with it— the _sounds_ he makes— she realizes he never wanted to do anything at all with her admittance. He’d just wanted it.

They tumble over the edge together— and it feels like that bit of _more_ that used to terrify her. It doesn’t now— because as his body trembles and his hips still there is a rush of her name whispered over and over— of promises and words that she’d never thought he’d say. Never thought he’d wanted.

She realizes he wants a great number of things she’d never known about— as he holds her after. As he clings to her as if he is afraid she’ll disappear.

“I’m going back to Resistance,” she whispers at some point. “I’m leaving First Order.”

His finger never falters in its task of tracing her spine. “Alright.”

“... but I’m not leaving you.”

His hand does still then— lingering for only a second that is paired with an inhale so soft she barely catches it. Then he resumes his light touching, and there is just a _slight_ tightening of his arm around her waist. “Alright.”

His body is a heavy weight— as it half-covers hers. It’s warm and it’s wide and it’s _him._ It’s no different than it’s always been, she realizes. The only thing different is her. He’s still holding her down.

She welcomes it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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